What We Still Don't Know
by underLINED mine
Summary: "How", and "Why" are the things that Canada isn't sure that he wants to know as he listens to France tell about how and why they did what they had done. Meanwhile, England tries to deal with his part in it, and how he tries to fix it ends up creating a bigger mess. POV sequel to "Who I Still Am", though you can read this first. Second in the Regrow, Refind trilogy.
1. Prologue

The cold wind was filled with songs of birds as Matthew almost cried. How could everything change so much? Less than a week ago, on a day like this, he would've cuddled with his bear under tree, and fall asleep to the music of the birds. He wouldn't be worried that Lithuania would tell about what he barely knew while he was housesitting his brother, or that his brother might not recover. He especially wouldn't worry if his friends, former friends, whatever, were evil.

He would be calm and blissfully unaware how surreal reality could be. Shortly after, France arrived. He flashed a small, unsure smile, and extended his hand. Matthew commented on how he was late, and asked if he organized a rape for him. France apologized and asked him to please not be so sarcastic. Matthew said that he was serious.

France nervously chuckled and brought him to where they would talk, walking in front of him. Matthew noticed that it looked like the same room as before. His hand reached protectively to the inside of his pocket. A gun fell. France asked if he was going to be a paranoid shooter who killed everyone for no reason, and why did he bring a gun in the first place. Canada gave a cold glare and simply said that he wasn't a moron. "You know why" was unspoken, but heard. France gave another nervous chuckle. He hoped that it wouldn't be like this. So after he tried to say… something, and Matthew asked "How did it happen, and why did you do it?", he tell that those hopes were dashed.

"Well, you know the aftereffects of what happened-"

"No, I don't. Alfred has been asleep for the past couple of days. Did you drug him? Is that why you were able to do it?! If you couldn't have drugged him, would you still have tried to rape him?! Was that what it was, trying to feel powerful when you were weak?!" Matthew stood up, crying. "BECAUSE IF YOU _KILLED_ AL, I _-_

"SHUT UP, SIT DOWN, NO ONE DIED!" France grabbed the gun from earlier and at threw it out the window. "CAN WE START NOW!?"

"Stop shouting", was all Canada said, a scrowl on his face. France held his face. He didn't know why he was doing this. "Look, it all started when-"


	2. Feeling it out

Russia said, "Have you noticed that America does the same things over and over? Does he not know that they're bad for everyone, or does he just not care? Like this financial crisis, for example. I know for a fact that he doesn't like it, but would he be more careful if he knew that he would get punished?"

"We can't, we shouldn't, we must not! How can we call ourselves men if we are merciless, cruel to even young children?", I started to say, standing on the table. "Hurting him, our blood, flesh, and hopes is hurting us. Are we cowards?! Non, we are men! So let us act like men!"

"And everyone agreed, deciding not to do the thing that we're talking for, all because France is such a brave hero!" Canada slumped into his seat. "Continue, coward."

"All right, so it didn't happen quite like that."

"Obviously."

"Well yes, but, let me finish. Anyway, England said:"

"That's a dumb idea, you ignorant and ugly frog", he said ironically in an ugly tone.

"Not that, but something more… practical", said Russia, acting as if I said something weird or fought a lot. Okay, only with England, but nothing happened at that meeting, I swear.

"Like what, hit him?", I said, casually raising a bruised hand.

"I don't know about you guys, but I don't like the idea of beating innocent nations for no reason", said China."Unlike you guys, I don't like getting into pointless fights."

"I'm not saying that, but just something to make him more responsible."

"You do realize that you plan on hurting a child for something that is everybody's fault and responsibility", said England.

"He's old enough, and some of it **is** his fault, so I want to prevent this from happening again!"

"I don't want you to do something that will only make things worse!" England yelled, starting to rise from his seat.

"Babying him will only make things worse!"

"Why does everyone think things will turn for the worse?", I asked.

"I don't know, but when times are bad, people love being miserable", said China. "What they love even more is making things worse for everyone else."

"I'm not trying to make things worse, I just-

"Hi everybody, sorry I'm late, the hero just wanted to get a burger, and the line was really long."

"Maybe that's because it's lunch time", someone mumbled.

"Whatever", he said, sitting next to Japan, who seemed as if he was surprised someone noticed him. Now that I think of it, maybe he didn't speak because no matter what he said, it would have pissed _someone_ off. Alfred came late to a meeting that started early, and then you arrived late because you fell asleep. Again.

"And that's what happened."

"But I don't see how-

"It connects? If I thought that this is how it would end back then, I wouldn't believe it. But it did. So then-


	3. Down the Rabbit Hole & What He Saw There

_Two days ago_

"Alfred, I'm so sorry for this, for all of this, for what I've done. If I could, I would turn back time, just to see you once more." Arthur felt his lead heart weigh his body down. He felt sick. He wanted to vomit the evilness out. Even the fairies couldn't help him feel better. They didn't know what it was like to lose your friend, more than a friend, someone that only now he realized just how much he loved him, by destroying him and yourself. He was evil. Disgusting. Corrupted. He felt sick.

A twig snapped. He turned. A golden-brown bunny was looking at him innocently, slightly cautious. Arthur smiled and gestured him to come here. After all, he loved animals like him, cute and innocent. He ran away. Even he didn't want him.

He ran after the rabbit.

He found it quickly, still trying to get away. Why get away? Wasn't he nice, did he not love him more than anyone else? The bunny ran as fast as he could, but Arthur was faster, quickly gaining speed. Five feet away, four feet away, Arthur extended his arms. Three feet away, two feet, he could just barely touch him. He would hold the child in his hands soon. One foot away… He crashed into a wall. Alfred fled. He looked up.

It was an old house that, even from the back, seemed familiar. Carvings from long before covered in moss. A broken window they never fixed. He walked around to the front. If he knew this place, and he was pretty sure… Underneath a small rock by the door was simple and sturdy key, still in good shape. Unlike him with Alfred. He opened the door.

The only disturbed thing was him. Everything was covered in dust. The table where they played, to the couch where he consoled him after losing the toy he was given. Could it be? He searched under the bed, quickly finding it. So that's where it was. Silly Alfred. He hugged the toy rabbit, and started to cry. How could everything be so preserved here, all these memories, when he would never see the boy again? Walking out the room, he heard something downstairs. He ran down the stairs. Fumbling in the dark, he found something small and fluffy. He hugged it. It turned out to be a rat. He threw it as far as he could. It knocked down a book. As he picked it up, he noticed that it was a spell book, some of which he had forgotten.

Maybe there was a way to bring Alfred back after all.

 _Sorry for publishing it so late in the day. This isn't as emotional as what I'm working on, so I'm like 'meh'. What do you think?_


	4. A Storm

_Once again, sorry for being so late in the day. I didn't have the next chapter planned out, and only had it finished by Yesterday. I'll have it typed on the computer by Saturday. Also, can you guess what fanfic this is an unofficial sequel to? Poor America. I wish that I could show everyone's thought process and reasons, but that wouldn't fit with the narrative. I told my lit teacher that I was writing a fanfic, so I show this to her later. I wish that there was a better one I could show her._

The sky looked angry, like a storm would come. Japan decided to briefly leave for the store before returning. As he walked home, a shadow covered him. "Hello", said Russia.

"Hello, Russia san. What have you come here for?"

"I wanted to talk the meeting we had."

"Perhaps later." Japan started to walk away. Russia walked ahead and faced him.

"You do realize that if we don't punish America, then worse things will happen."

"Times ar-

"Routine changes, not people."

"...Okay."

"I'm saying this out of concern", he said, his eyes changing with a different emotion. Concern, fright? Anger? Impatience?"We are not the only people in this slump. People are losing patience. People are sadistic when upset. I wish to avert worse things."

"I admire your concern, but time may prove it uneed-

"A vote has been scheduled for the next meeting." He closed his eyes. "I knew that I wasn't the only one."

"... Uh, I see-

"But you don't understand. I just want to send a message that his behavior won't be tolerated. He isn't the most popular, you know. Besides, gratefulness fades while resentment doesn't."

"... Why are you telling me this?" He showed more curiosity than he wanted to.

"Because you are my friend." He opened his eyes and leaned towards him. "Resentment is violent, and it leads to persecuting those who don't follow the plan. If you go with the plan, you can make it not too harsh. Just be careful." With that, he walked away.

A drop fell on Kiku's feet. It started to rain. A storm was coming.


	5. Two Hands Meet and Touch

Since that meeting, both England and I thought that all was said and done. I tried talking to Russia to see if his mind was off that, but I noticed that he kept leaving for somewhere. I asked some of our friends, and apparently they had been visited by Russia. So when I got a letter that said to meet him at a cafe, I decided to grab England and come there. Eventually, he came.

He did not look happy. "Why have you brought him?"

"Because you're still concerned with this punishment, which sounds awfully nefarious. Not least that you're secretly meeting with people for unexplained reasons", said England.

"Is it violent?", I asked, realizing that I was getting angry.

"They wouldn't be unexplained if you just let me talk!", he said. He sat down opposite of us, his face in a shadow.

"I just didn't want to listen to you argue. Can England leave?"

"Look, I know how dreadfully annoying he can be, but sometimes he does stuff, so that." England probably shot me a glare. Russia was silent.

"You do realize that if you don't talk, that we'll trust you even less?", said England.

Russia sighed. "I guess my hands are tied. It's just that you wouldn't like-"

"Is this about that 'punishment'?"

"You're not going to convince us-

"I don't have to. Everyone decided to vote on it."

"...What?"

"When? How?"

"Turns out that I was right", he said, his face still hidden. "People resent him. If we do this, then-

"We are back-stabbing arseholes who let other back-stabbing arseholes get their violent revenge."

"I never said that we would beat him up!"

"When you go far to get a vaguely defined 'punishment' for someone you don't like, it implies violence." England sneered. "After all, this is just an excuse for you to beat a child for something that wasn't even all his fault."

"I'm trying to prevent other people from doing bad things on their own, even more strained relations that will wilt, and to temper America."

"You didn't respond to what I just said, about excuses and how you want to beat up America."

"Will this involve violence?", I asked.

"Only if we decide that it does."

"More proof that I was right, that you just want to hurt someone, isn't it", he said.

When evil strikes we expect it to be in our face. Maybe it was in our face, but we just ignored it. So I thought that Russia would say 'yes' and evil would happen, or for Russia to say 'no' and the crisis averted. Instead he said "I hust want things to change. Everything's in ruins. I have to do something, it can't get worse. It will change, and this will make it change for the better." Russia's face was no longer hidden, wearing a smile. Sadistic or not, I couldn't tell, only that it belonged to Russia, and thus was creepy. I was figuring out what to say while England said-

"We're rather influential, so they can take our word that it will only make things worse."

"Or that you're very biased for a nation you're still babying, regardless of cost."

I said, "Even if it takes a bit of time, I think we can convince them."

"The vote is today", he said, standing and leaving.

"What was the point of telling me?", I asked.

"So you wouldn't interfere. I know how loose lips are."

So that was how they decided on punishing America.

"But did they know that they-

"Were setting up what you happens. If Russia had even a sliver of thought that _that_ would happen, I think he never would have said anything. None of us knew."

"So how did it happen?"

Francis looked ashamed, his eyes on the floor. "So you want to know where we got that idea? I'll tell you. You see-


	6. Assault

They voted yes. Only England and me voted against it, with Japan abstaining because no matter what he did, he would contribute nothing and only anger somebody. I think that he was right to be afraid of that. Russia dragged England off to the closet to talk, and I overheard because they were yelling. Basically, Russia wanted England to get the sedative to drug America so he wouldn't go to the police about this and ruin the plan. England said that he wouldn't, and that if he didn't then nothing would happen. Russia threatened to do to England what he and the rest would do to America, and everyone in the group and their allies would hold sanctions against him for conspiracy against America. Then he said that he knew how to plant things.

So England walked out dejectedly. Russia saw me and asked me to go along with England to make sure that he didn't hurt anyone while he was upset. I didn't believe him, but I went with him anyway.

So that was how I ended up walking with England for most of the way. England didn't handle grief as well as I did, moping obviously, so I decided to make use of this and get that annoying look off his face. Leaning on him for support because the juice I drank was rotted, I said. "So much clout, eh young diplomat?"

He shrugged. Mumbled. Then I said, "I don't like how you look right now, and because I am exceptionally kind, I shall help you."

"Stop", he said. It was a reaction, so I went on.

"You and I shall fight them all; Russia, China, Japan, Germany, Italy-

"Enough, you can't be serious, you're dru-

"And stop the assault ourselves!"

I forgot the look on his face, but he paused, sounding unsure and worried when he said "What?"

"Assault him, beat him and the rest."

"Y-you can't be serious. There's no way they can do that." I noticed that he was sweating profusely, so I patted his back, but he moved out the way, and I fell down. He stared at me in the eyes and said, "You can't be telling the truth, you're not in the right mind."

"But I knew from before that they were going to do that. I thought that it was obvious. They want him to be more mature and grownup, so what else are they going to do?"

England's eyes widened, full of fear. "That can't be true."

"Reality is doesn't care about its harshness. When it is harsh, it's partially because of the response of the world." I struggled to get up.

It took awhile, but finally he started walking to the closest alleyway and started kicking a garbage can. At first it was done softly, both the kicking and the cursing. But then they became more and more intense, so the garbage covered both of us and large, jagged pieces of metal cut into his hands, covered in blood and tears. He looked at me, and in his eyes, I felt as if I could've been knocked down. His eyes were almost closed, but I could see the dimness in them, like something inside was dying. Like something he loved had died. I tried to touch his shoulder to reassure him, but he swatted it away. "This is irredeemable. I'm a monster if I do this, and I don't know how to stop this."

"It's not that big of a deal", I said, hiccuping.

" **YES, IT IS, YOU BLOODY MONSTER**!", he yelled almost immediately. It gave me a headache.

"But you're drugging him, aren't you. Maybe make him fall asleep with it."

England smiled and said "You're right!" He offered to send me a cab home since I seemed tired, but declined, not realizing until later that I must have passed out because I was in my room. I shrugged and went to sleep, feeling as if something was tugging at me in the back of my head.

That night I had nightmares.


	7. Hope, fully

_Three days ago_

As Canada sat, listening to France, he realized that France made no sense. Talking about the word assault and condemning it, like it was the cause of something evil, and how it was going to lead England off a vaguely stated plan that a couple of their closest friends were in. One that he seemed anxious to avoid talking about. After getting angry, he made an ultimatum about actually telling what was going on or walking out the door. France conceded. They were going to attack America.

How they were going to attack him, or even who was unmentioned. Was it China, or Russia? They could be an actual threat. But France didn't mention them. Only that he was worried that England would do something to the plan of beating him up, and asked to call England because he didn't know where he was from passing out last night. From sleepiness, of course.

So when Canada left he decided not to stop England from ruining the plan. But then he started to wonder it he was doing the right thing, for England could fail. After-all, America could very well hurt his friends. Not that it was undeserved for being planned attackers, but America tended to get... carried away. Just before he opened the door, Canada started to wonder: maybe letting America walk in on his planned attackers wasn't a good idea. America could do more than defend himself, so that was the least of his concerns, but that America would see such...Canada shook his head. Maybe it would be a good thing for him to learn about life, even though a wave of betrayal. He was surprised that something thing like this hadn't happened sooner.

It was like his enemies were attacking him, only worse. So what if the antics would be less cruel, it wouldn't be less nice to have your friends trying to gang beat you, but...

 _That's just how things are_ , he thought bitterly. Things wouldn't always work out, and sometimes the people you love do crazy things. He hoped everyone would learn their lesson. Canada hoped that America would take it well. Beneath that bustling exterior was a heart that bruised rather easily. He hoped that it wasn't lost for ever because this. Even if this was a lesson that he needed to learn, he didn't want his brother to change.

He loved Alfred the way he was, even if he was annoying at times. That was what made him him. The door shifted with his thoughts.

By telling him directly, he would out himself to France if Alfred just ignored him and said that Canada told him. But if Alfred just didn't go to the meeting because he didn't want to, (maybe the Superbowl or something? Or a little birdie's hint?) then Alfred wouldn't find out even if England failed, everybody else would realize what they wanted was wrong and repent, and he wouldn't break his word to France. A great win-win.

As long as it worked.

* * *

 _I'm publishing this now because tomorrow I'm spending Sunday at six flags with my mom and brother._


	8. Psychí, and Sociopathy

I did not hear back from you about whether you did it or not, so when I went to the meeting, I was nervous. I arrived late, but not as late as America, who came several minutes later. This was _supposed_ to be a very important meeting as it was supposed to be about recovery and how to help America solve the crisis. None of us discussed that, and when I walked in, they were discussing (and avoiding details) on what they were supposed to do. Now that I think of it, Russia must have been so focused on convincing everyone to be apart of the plan that he didn't realize that he had a plan. I sat next to England so I could whisper to him, and as I covertly tried, someone had noticed and asked what I doing.

So I decided blurt it out and said "England doesn't like your plan, s-"

"That is not true, he is a liar!", interrupted England. "You can't believe that I would really sabotage this, right?!"

Everyone was silent. Russia made the excuse to stand in the corner to tie his shoes. He was wearing boots.

Finally, Japan spoke up and said "I… actually have a bad feeling about what might happen. Can we postpone this?"

"Look," Germany said, "feelings don't matter at this point. Everyone, including America will get hurt. So if it keeps going down any longer we're _all_ in serious trouble."

"That idiot should be blamed for this mess", England said, turning away. I tried to face him, make him see mercy. If he wasn't going to face it… Please you have to.

England turned towards me. "He hasn't done anything to help get us out of this crisis", was all he said. Merde.

"He will pay", said China, looking away.

"W-What are you guys saying?" America had just entered the room. "What is this, some sort of 'I hate America' fan club? Are you guys that fucking sad. If you have something to say to me! Things haven't been going well for me either! We're doing the best we can!" He looked upset, like the people he cared about were viciously betraying him. My face was stoic, but I actually, felt sad for him. I about to speak up. So was England.

Russia grabbed him. America was shocked, just turning his face and said, "Russia, let me go."

"America, you shouldn't just let yourself in like that and already harassing the guests", he said, stroking his neck and face.

"You're being a very bad boy". He started to strangle him, and inject him with the needle.

"Don't kill him", England said stoically, perhaps uncaringly.

"I'm not, I'm only making him light headed."

"Well just put him down there", said England. Russia did so, still suffocating America, but in a slightly lighter way. I have no idea what Russia thought England would want the scissors for, but he still gave them to England. With him pacified, he tied his hands and cut a hole in his hands. Maybe they thought that that would be it, that they would just humiliate him by showing his asshole, or perhaps just didn't want to speak up. Maybe if anyone stood up, nothing would have happened. You know how that turned out.

And then-


	9. Climax:Pass Around, Pass Around

**Graphic Gang-Rape Trigger** This chapter exists to flesh out everyone's processes.

 _In hell, there is no hope, love or mercy. It is very confusing and ironic. In Gangrape hell, there is no identity, loyalty, or time either. You may be passed around and around, but even though it has been hours, only minutes have passed. No one will wonder where you are._

He started to rape Alfred. Everyone, even Russia, was stunned, standing there unthinking. It wasn't until Alfred was being raped anally that they realized what they were seeing was really happening. How come England was doing that? _Why_ England doing that? Weren't they just supposed to beat him up? Is that what they were _supposed_ to do? Did everyone agreed to _that_? Surely this was all just a mistake, or something, or only England supported this. Except… England _loved_ America. He wouldn't do this unless everyone else wanted to. It was either this or some unspoken punishment.

"Ah, you're drooling so much", England said as he orally raped Alfred, the boy who loved him most in the world, and the one he loved the most. Once he was done, Alfred looked down and said "Please". He didn't yell, didn't curse. Just said please. To whom, unknown. What for, a vague idea. To stop, to tell? Tell what? Why rape him, or if they still loved him. Why stand there, and ignore your conscious, and allow your friend to be raped? For love, compassion, mercy? He went unanswered. Arthur tried to not care.

He was a gentleman in ungentlemanly times. He wasn't hurting Alfred, he was hurting… someone else. France, no, though he hated the bastard. Just not this much. A human, maybe? What about a peophile, for just desserts? "Begging for mercy already?" he said, the trick already working. "You know that trick isn't going to work."

"You'll regret this, you bastard!"

"... Not as much as I'll enjoy it." He was enjoying this!? Enjoying this?! What in the hell happened, and how did they get there?! In fact… "Russia, you can let him go. I've got him." His penis was out.

"STOP IT, ENGLAND!" This couldn't happen, this couldn't happen, this couldn't happen, this couldn't happen, this couldn't happen, this couldn't happen, this couldn't happen, Arthur wouldn't do this, this couldn't happen.

"I swear, if you - **Aagh"** It was slightly in. It felt very, very gross, a vast understatement, this thing inside of him. It was rough skinned snake defiling him. How could he ever had imagined this in his dreams were it was just the two of them, together in love? Consensually?

"What are you going to do?", Arthur asked genuinely. Maybe he would escape. They couldn't do it to someone who wasn't there.

"F-fuck, it hurts. IT FUCKING HURTS!"

"Good", England said, surprising even himself.

America paused. Arthur really did hate him. "BASTARD!"

"Now everyone can watch you squirm as I fuck you." Alfred started cursing with hatred on his tongue. Alfred was feeling the dirtiness he was feeling. He pushed him to the floor. "You must be feeling it by now. How deep in the shit hole you got us all into." None of them wanted to do this, but yet they were doing this. How could America force them into this conundrum?

Arthur kissed him. He always wanted to kiss that boy with such a sweet face, and it was now or never anyway. The others wouldn't dare do it. They probably hated him too much. Why else would they stand there?

Once again the spokesman tried to interrupt. "T-the banks … we're-"

"What!? You think that it will solve everything!? You think that it will happen … overnight?!" At the end he forgot that he was supposed to be talking about the economy. The banks wouldn't solve everything, _nothing_ could solve everything! His friend was being raped, his other friends didn't give a shit, and the medicine wasn't working. Dark emotions swirled inside him and hardened, crushing him from the inside. He took a sharpie and wrote what he felt on America's head. Guilt.

England turned around and noticed France. Was he even there earlier? He seemed to be smiling for some odd reason. He hoped that it was forced. He never thought of France as a sociopath, let alone a cold blooded actual rapist. He asked if he wanted a turn. France said "of course".

England forced me to take over because he was feeling sick. America was upset, but I didn't mock him as I did so. I found it disgusting so I passed it on to Italy. He was easily the most weak-willed, and therefore the least likely to protest at what he had to do. His brother joined in, probably to make sure he did it so they wouldn't get in trouble. They insulted him while they raped him. I went to the bathroom so I didn't see too much of what happened.

Japan watched as he saw someone he had fought with and cared about get raped by his two german allies who were taking over for the Italies. Former allies. Like him.

No one wanted to see this, but they were watching any way. The longer they stood there, the more likely it was that they would have to give whoever was doing it a break. But he watched for two reasons. One was because he hoped that something would fall from the sky and everything, for it already seemed that surreal. The second reason he did nothing was because he didn't know what to do. Everything thing felt half and half, 50/50. He half felt like going there to stop it, and half going there to beat him. He felt half like speaking up, yelling at them to stop it, and half like remaining quiet. The polls before this were also divided, with only half still liking America. He felt torn apart. The only thing he could do was cling to the past from before, before all of this, before any of this. Even then he didn't speak up at crucial moments. So what was he going to do now?

China watched as Japan approached America. He was probably going there to rape him. He was surprised that he wasn't surprised. Did think that lowly of Japan, or was it just this situation? Everyone had to act as one, otherwise there would be random violence. Not that this was much better. But still, one man could do nothing. As much as he disliked it, he should probably also rape him briefly. Japan was going to do it at the same time, so he probably wouldn't notice. He hoped everyone else did, though. He shuddered, thinking of what would happen if they didn't. He sighed. America was a pervert like France. It wasn't like they were beating him.

The Germany brothers stopped. He was not being raped at this moment. He smiled and laughed briefly, softly. This wasn't something he should be thankful for, this was something that he should take for granted. Maybe he had grown up? He gave a laugh as small as his spirits. A cold hand comforted him, holding the side of his face. It was Japan.

"Japan!"

"America-san… How could you let your pretty face get this dirty?" Dread and sadness showed themselves on Alfred's face. "I should help you get it clean again." Japan seated America on his lap. America felt China touch his back.

"America, when will you be able to pay back your debt? How long are you going to keep spending it on more oil?"

"Do you know how much you owe Japan and I aru?" His pants were finally off. "We love that you buy our goods, but this recession is unacceptable, aru." He started to rape his anus.

"N-no, please!" China had entered. "China!" Okay, he couldn't take both China and Japan hurting him. Japan had fought with him, but they were supposed to be allies who traded culture and were nerds together. Alfred was the one who had thought the best of him. Yes, there were strains between him and China, but he had a lot of China's people in him, and even though he got into a war to free him, China still saw fit be be a backstabbing asshole. He hoped that he would pass out, so he wouldn't experience this any longer. He felt like he was going to pass, barely being able to move his limbs, a tiredness overwhelming him, but it wasn't to making him unconsciousness. The only thing he could do was experience being raped. "AH-!Oh **God** "

"I hoped we showed you how much we're enjoying this", said China.

Alfred was moaning and yelling at the same time. His body was burning, burning in Hell. What had he done, what did he do? He passed out briefly, unconscious for only seconds.

The first thing he said was "Please, no more."

Someone lifted his head. He heard a mumble. It was Russia. America couldn't hear what he was saying, and it didn't matter. He knew what he wanted. Russia nudged him towards his crotch. "I-I don't want", started America, hoping that this nightmare would just _end_ already.

"Open your mouth, America." Russia was pressing his dirty penis that he pissed out of to his mouth. "Open your mouth." Russia pushed it in. "Don't bite, okay. Or I'll get my pipe." With China still holding on to him, Russia raping him, his body paralyzed, and Japan under him, doing something, America felt powerless, weak. He wanted to die.

France was taking a photo.

"What are you doing?", asked England. What happened would be burned in his memory forever, so why the Hell was France taking a photo?

"Taking a picture of this", said captain obvious. "Want me to send it to you?"

"France, that's a bad idea", said Germany, fidgeting with his fingers. Apparently taking a photo of someone being raped was bad, but rape itself is fine, England thought bitterly.

Romano threw a paper ball in the trash. "It's fine as long as our faces aren't showing." So this was all fine, apparently, Germany and Prussia thought bitterly. Romano stood up. "It's not often we see America so humiliated and powerless."

France had never heard Romano act like that before, reveling in someone's pain. He clenched his fist. How could America soil the innocence of everyone around him? What they do? All they did was listen to him since he was the one with the big money and loud mouth.

"Make him face towards me", France said, sounding out a calm anger. He looked at his phone instead of Alfred. "If you ever try boycotting me again I could use these pictures against you. They're turning out rather nice." He looked towards him. "Shall I send one to your previous boss?" Alfred looked away. France turned his face towards him. "Don't you look away from me. Alfred chomped hard on the fold between the thumb and index. France screamed and slapped him.

"France! We promised not to hit him aru!", yelled China. They weren't supposed to hurt him.

Francis glared at him before deciding to ignore the hypocrisy. "Did you not see what he did? He hit me!" He looked towards Alfred, and his feelings consumed him. He hit his child after taking of him being raped. "Merde."

"That wasn't very nice", said Russia, grabbing Alfred's face, about to force his cock back into it. "Your pretty mouth shouldn't be hurting people like that." Japan looked upset, almost like he was about to yell before he raised his head, and realized how many people there were. He ducked it back down.

"P-please don-n't k-keep groping him like that."

Russia ignored him. "Come here", he said when the oral rape was done. America coughed, and Russia stood under him, grabbing the body.

"N-NO! LET GO!"

Russia seated America on top of his penis and raped him. "You're still pretty tight after all that."

Feliciano, the youngest and most immature man in the room (barring the one that they raping) covered his ears. They weren't like him, they couldn't get away with that. He was weak, empathetic. It was obvious that this pain was also hurting him, that he wanted to go away somewhere where things like this didn't happen, and friends were always there. They could pretend, he couldn't.

They grew even madder.

"Ah… STAY AWAY!" Arthur was standing in front of him.

"I SAID STAY AWAY!"

"Wh-?" England was surprised. America must have consented to this, he _had_ to. He collected enough powerful anesthetics to kill a horse, so the only reason why he would still be awake would be sheer will power. If he didn't want this, then why was he conscious? Russia even had to help separate his legs. "Perhaps I should have brought the spreader bar instead."

"I'm surprised your legs haven't gone numb by now." He separated the lips of his pseudo son's penis with a flat piece of glass.

"ARGHH. Go to hell, Arthur!"

A nation is almost never called by a human name, for they were nations; no one cared about their human side. Even among close allies, it was never thrown around. Alfred tried to speak to England's soul. He silently winced and glared. It was impossible to stop it now. He stomped on Alfred's penis. "Aaargghh ! No, please!" Why was he so intent on trying to make him feel guilty?

"So maybe this is more to your liking?", he said as he softly rubbed the penis with his foot.

"Aag!" Once

"This part of you isn't saying no", he reason aloud. They didn't want to, so it wasn't their fault. So they blamed it on the man that they were raping.

"Arthur! No! PLEASE!"

"W-why? Arthu-"

"You're clearly enjoying this, aren't you? Are you fine? Don't you want release?" England kicked his penis as Russia raped his anus.

"PLEASE! I'LL FIX EVERYTHING!" At some point Russia stopped raping him. He didn't really notice. He notice when Russia insulted him, and he shitted out the semen, but that was only because of one thing.

It meant that he was still in Hell.

Then you came and rescued him. I had to restrain you while England talked to you. Eventually, he realized that he was the only one who thought a rape would happen. I skimmed through some of it, but that is how the rape happened. Any questions.

Matthew got out of his seat...


	10. Hole

_Please comment. I listened to_ bad intentions _by_ digital daggers _and_ the devil within

* * *

And vomited over the table. Not that France blamed him. When he was done, he asked France why he left.

"You of all people should know how revolting that was."

"Yes, but… Why didn't you get help?"

"I tried to. You weren't picking up."

"How come you didn't call the cops?"

France blushed. "What were they supposed to do? Russia and China were there, and even if they did anything, the politic-"

"As opposed to now where everything's just fine politically!"

"Well…" Francis hid his face.

"Why didn't' you do anything, why did you run away?!"

"Because I didn't want to be apart of this!" He started to stand up. "No moral, sane person would want to be apart of it."

"Then what did you do?! You brought this down!"

"But I wanted to get help", he said, hands on his chest. "I just… couldn't."

"So you were a useless, maple coward then!"

"I am not a useless coward", he said calmly, angrily.

"You're right, that's Italy! He may be a useless coward, but at least he didn't organize a rape, accidentally or on purpose and lie-"

"I DIDN'T LIE, YOU FUCKING FUCKER!" His hands were fists, and he was starting to cry. "I DIDN'T FUCKING LIE."

"Then why did you bring that prop, that thing you put on his penis! I heard from Japan, who actually felt guilty, and I didn't hear it in your story!"

"... What?" He started to sweat. "If you already heard it from Japan, then what was the point of talking to me?"

"YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO FEEL SORRY AND TELL THE TRUTH". Matthew started to break down. "You were supposed to say that it was beyond your control. That you didn't want it."

"But I didn-"

"Then why didn't you tell anyone else, why didn't you call the cops, why you didn't notice that England thought you meant 'sexual assault' not 'physical assault'!?

"I was drun-"

"That's the thing, how do I even know that you were? Maybe you were such a massive retard that you didn't notice, and then made up an excuse later. Or maybe you just never cared, or even wanted that. I can't tell anymore."

"Why would I lie to you about that? He was almost my son-"

"So am I. You still lied to me. I've only known Japan for, what, a century, during which I **fought** him, but he still considered me enough to not lie! Why did you lie, France, I just want to know why? Did you think that you could get away this, that you were that powerful, or did you not give a flying maple about how I felt, and didn't want to feel regret?"

"Are you a sociopath?", he said said calmly, with only a slight hint of anger.

"No. I am not. I actually give a crap about people's feelings, before I talk."

"Shut up."

"No."

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"NO!"

"YES!"

SHUT UP, YOU SPOILED BRAT, NO MEANS NO!" France slammed the table, breaking a peg. Matthew looked surprised. Then he laughed.

"Why are you laughing? This isn't funny"

"I know what's going to happen. This is how it really happened, isn't it? Isn't this how my brother really got raped? You gave him a choice, and my brother chose being hurt than hurting his friends. He made a mistake. He should have murdered everyone there."

"Matthew, what the hell are you doing?"

 _CLICK-CLICK_

Matthew smiled. "Fixing a mistake, rapist."

"... WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

Nothing was wrong with him. Nothing at all. All that happened was that he realized something. It was that France was evil, and deserved to die. That he hated France. France used to be a kind man who loved others and would fight to the death for him. That wasn't true anymore. The France of his childhood was now a distant dream.

He didn't know how long it was there, this hate burning in him, only that it was eating him alive. He could only satisfy it.

Which was only by making France suffer.

Francis was thinking a million thoughts, and, like the situation, they were incomplete. _Run away!_ Where? _Talk him down!_ How? Matthew hated him. _Attack him!_ Once before with his twin was enough to cause everything. _Flip the table and run!_ He started to crouch, very fast. Not fast enough for the bullet. He landed on the floor, overwhelmed with pain from his bloody shoulder and and fear. Matthew calmly walked there and pointed his gun towards France. Francis tried to speak. Matthew threatened to shoot him if he spoke.

"Monster", Francis whispered.

Matthew shot one of his kneecaps, and France screamed in pain before Matthew said "Don't be a hypocrite."

"How could you do that?"

"'How could you do that!?'", he asked, the gun shaking in his hands. "'How could you do that!?' You fought a war to be with America, how could you organize a rape when he caused the goddamn depression?! At least that was more his fault than this! Even then, there was a drought, so it was beyond his control!"

"Your brother is not as innocent as you think he is."

"You're not as innocent as I thought you were. You raped my brother! You can't talk about innocence when you're a fucking slutty rapist! I can't get over it! You **raped** my brother, my twin, my other half! How could you act noble when you did the worst fucking thing possible, and you're trying to act as if I'm out of line!?"

"Because you're about to shoot someone someone half cocked like a dog with rabies! Let's calm-

"No!"

"Hypocrite! You say that violence isn't the answer, but you are the one pointing a gun! Imagine if Alfred saw you now! Is rape worse than murder?! Would he agree?! Is it?! Tell me!"

France tried to stand up. Matthew pointed the gun towards Francis' head. His eyes dulled with disappointment, and mouthed the word 'why'.

"I'm not taking risks. You move or speak again, I go for the other knee cap, then the penis, eyes, and heart."

Francis tried to speak, tried to say something that would convince his former ward the errors of his ways. Then he wondered if he should give up.

The phone rang. France didn't say where he was going to his boss or anyone else, and Matthew took out the battery of his phone shortly before this began. Matthew answered it.

It was Lithuania. His brother was missing.


	11. Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

Tick-Tick-Tick went the clock, speeding as though it's hand were tired of it all and tried to run away. It would do them no good though. They would always be bound from the center. His meeting with Canada hadn't gone very well, especially after the call that his brother was missing.

Where the hell was England? He said he would be here as soon as could, and Francis believed him. Why wouldn't he, just to say a word associated with what happened, what they did, and he would look… Sad wasn't the word. Sad was unhappiness, it could crumble like smokey remains. It was like calling a depressed person sad. It wasn't sadness. It was beyond sadness. So he believed him. Trusted in him. Just like Alfred had.

Still, it wasn't like England to come eleventh hour. So maybe his version of being "as fast as I can" was slow, somehow. They couldn't understand everything, even if they had one whole year just to talk to themselves about it; a few minutes would be even less helpful.

But just as he was starting to complain, out popped the sweaty and dirty man with only his face more disheveled than his outfit.

"Oh… over here Arthur. It's about Alfred." Even though they were on the opposite sides of a large room, he seemed to spot him immediately, running the way there. He was even more dishevel than he thought, his looking as if was uncombed for days, and unwashed and unchanged for the same amount of time. His hair looked as knotted as he did. There was something soft and brown hidden in his jacket that France frankly didn't want to know about.

England's first words were upon arriving were "What about Alfred? Where is he? Has he been found?"

"Um… Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"When did you last take a shower?"

England's smile was so quickly replaced with a soft frown that France wasn't sure that it was ever there. He hid his face. "Not since Alfred went away. Why?"

"Because you're dirty, that's why! Did you live in a pigsty since I last saw you? Why...". He

took in a breath that didn't satisfy. "Why did you let yourself go?"

"Because there was no reason not to", he said frankly. "Alfred was gone, I ruined a lot of lives that day, and it was all my fault". The only thing that made him feel more pity for England than his soft frown was his unhinged smile. "But that's okay. Alfred's here again, and things will return to like they used to."

"No, Arthur, they won't. They never will. That's why I'm so frustrated with you; you either don't or you won't realize that things won't be back to how they were. It never will. It would have to take over a hundred years for it to begin to turn to how they were."

England's mouth was open, stared in amazement. "So I have to wait one hundred years?"

"No-"

"Oh, good. I'm glad". He turned his head down and smiled. "I'm glad I'll see Alfred again much sooner." He hugged himself, or something near himself rather, and as if he was speaking to baby he almost whispered "I'm so glad that I'll see him soon. I really do love Alfred. You know that, right?"

"Um, yes. I know", he said a little uncomfortably.

"I really do love you."

France's eyes widened, but then he saw the fur sticking out of Arthur's coat. It was-

"Arthur? Is that...?"

"Yeah… It was a toy that Alfred played with when he was younger". Gingerly taking it out of his coat like the slightest movement would crumble it to pieces, Arthur held out the toy. It was a soft brown rabbit that looked untouched from time. "Alfy always carried a bunny around with him, even when it wasn't appropriate, so I made a toy bunny for him."

"Uh, how… Uh how come it hadn't rotted yet?"

"Magic." His eyes lit up just a bit more. "Alfy never believed me, but it was by magic. Magic can do a lot of things." It could protect from age or grime, create, destroy, warp or change things. He started to frown. But there were some things that even the strongest magic couldn't change.

France coughed. "So where have you been?"

"All over the country. Where do you think he is?"

"Matthew said that he probably somewhere near here. Neither of us know why he would leave home, so maybe he was chased by something dangerous."

"I doubt that it was dangerous", Arthur said immediately.

"Maybe it was the paranoia from what happened, so-"

"What are you talking about?", he asked.

"What do you mean 'what am I talking about'? I mean what happened in the meeting room that day."

"What happened that day?"

"Arthur, you know what happened."

"I think that I forgot."

"You didn't forget. You just don't want to accept what happened."

"But why did it have to happen?! I didn't want to do that to Alfred; no one did! I love him more than anyone else, so why did I have to do that!? Why did that have to happen?!" Arthur was crying, his face already red as everything repressed finally showed up. "I didn't want to hurt him, so how come I'm not allowed to see him? I already feel like taking scissors and cutting out the part that made me do that, so what else is supposed to change?" Arthur sobbed hard enough that Francis was surprised that no one was shooting looks at him. He put his head to his chest and hugged him.

"Mon Ami, it is okay. Little Alfred can't be mad at you for raping hi-"

"What rape, what are you talking about?", Arthur was looking up, confused and no longer crying. "I would never rape him."

"B-But weren't you just crying about how upset you were that hurt Alf-"

"Why would I ever hurt Alfred, and why did you mention crying?"

"Because you just cried seconds ago! There are still tears on your face!"

Arthur touched his face, surprised at the wetness. Why wouldn't he remember? He wanted to ask France, but he seemed to be yelling at him at the moment.

"Don't you get that you can't just forget what you've done because then nothing will stop you from doing it again!? Or that at the end, you get so full of guilt repressing something, that you never stopped to help those you love- Holy shit, it's Matthew! If anyone asks, you weren't here. I don't think that now is a good time for him to see you. You already raped Alfred, so you might as well be a kidnapper." Francis ran to Matthew, leaving behind his lesson and his friend's hood.

Arthur grabbed the hoodie, and put it into his backpack. Right next to the other twin's coat.

* * *

 _Please review_


	12. Bittersweet, a Love Story

"Alfred, get away from there, you'll get hurt! It's dangerous!"

"Come on England, stop worrying so much, I'm not a baby. I'm fine"

"I'm immortal."

"Even immortal people can get hurt. Please come down now." But decades old Alfred just resumed his climbing of the wall of the house.

If he slipped, he would fall directly below and cut himself badly. There was also the chance of him getting stuck up there and Arthur having to talk a crying child down since he didn't have a ladder. Even if he did get one, Alfred could slip at any second. While Alfred was looking upwards, Arthur kicked the wall, sending the child down and into his hands.

He closely hugged the child in his arms and cradled him, vowing to protect him from harm.

"I love you, so don't scare me like that again. Even the great gods can hurt themselves, and while you're immortal, you're not a god."

"I understand the lecture, but could you please let me go?"

"Only if I don't have to stop you from doing stupid things anymore."

Once again he held the unknowing lad in his arms, after trying to bring him back from what perhaps wasn't as dangerous as being with him. He also felt uncertain that he knew what to do, or even if he could protect him. "Maybe Francis was right" he muttered softly, starting to lay the boy back on the bed. Maybe he wasn't supposed to be with Alfred anymore, that even though they had known each other longer that most people lived. It was simple, leave Alfred alone, but he just didn't want to do that.

Broken like a vase, you just couldn't put it back together, even though he love-\

England shook his head.

Of all the things that important to him, he never gave up on. If he wanted someone, he would ignore God's words to do so.

But not enough to stop the gangrape, though. Even though he wanted to stop it, he didn't. Yet somehow, he was kidnapping him, and that proved his love for him. In any story, he would be the villain, even though the villain almost always hates the hero. Like dark chocolate, their relationship was bittersweet at best, and flavorless when anything comes down to wash it away. He didn't know how long it was like that, or to what extent. He tried to lay Alfred back down, but he slipped and almost fell again. Arthur, even though he wasn't that strong, hugged him and cushioned his blow as they fell to the floor.

Alfred was unconscious, so he couldn't feel the pain. He wasn't even face down, so it wasn't like his glasses would break. But he still shielded him anyway. No matter how bitter, he still loved Alfred.

… Maybe that was why he was kidnapping him.

* * *

 _My school was giving out books from the library. One of these was "Target" about a boy dealing with his gangrape. When I searched for it online, I saw a book called "Gangrape: A Love Story", which is about a family coming closer and dealing with the fact that the mom was gangraped, and the teenage daughter was forced to watch. This is where I got the title. On the paper I written the rough draft on, I drew hearts on it. Lovey and twisted. Just like the title and Arthur. Please review, because as of 11/29/15, I have only gotten one review, and it was a question._


	13. End

_I couldn't spend much time on the computer because my mom was mad at me, and what time I did spend was on school work. I'm sorry. I did get one review, so thank you._

* * *

Francis was scared, even before he noticed trees falling. There was no logging in the area, and it was many trees that were falling, so it wasn't age. An icy knife struck his heart, and melted in his eyes.

America had come for revenge.

He didn't know that he screamed, just that one moment Matthew was there and asking what happened. He told him, warned him, and Matthew just asked why, why was he afraid of him? He didn't need to explain. Men were driven by passion, feeling like love, and instincts like fear. Considering what happened and why it was done, it was obvious what America would try to do. Francis grabbed his friend's arm, and pulled him to safety, running out the back door and into the woods. Like Orpheus, he turned around to see if he escaped Hell, and saw that his loved one was no longer there. He was truly alone. Laugh and the world laughs with you, he thought. He cried alone.

Unaware, his victim was comforted, and given love.


	14. Redo

_I won't have the final story published until after Christmas break, probably. That would be around a few days after the 7th. It's where the others find out, and Alfred slowly trusts again and learns that it wasn't his fault, nor did he deserve it. I'll have a poll on what it should be tagged as. I've been sad writing this, so I guess I should take a little break. Thank you for reading._

* * *

... He can't sleep, not after what he had done. After spending the whole day in a mindless blur, the one time he shouldn't think, he does. It's all about those kids as well. America, his youthful innocence forever shattered, seeing the despair and confusion in his eyes almost made him cry. If he would stop whenever a stranger said no, why would he rape an unwilling friend who didn't deserve this, didn't deserve any of this. And then... and then there were Matthew's eyes, his former colony, his former child who knew his old language better than he did. He remembered the look of disgust in his eyes, the look of almost hatred. He remembered both children asking why.

He doesn't know. He nor anyone else had ever or will ever know. But when he looks into the mirror, he sees a lot of small reasons that just boiled over, like hate and fear.

They make a very ugly man. Finally, he turns on the lights and reaches for his phone. He calls the person who hates him the most to explain why. Not to Matthew, but to him.

He wants redemption and love. Maybe he could overcome this flaw and be better again.

Or maybe it's easier for evil to lie. ...

No one knows.


End file.
